Let Him Teach You How to Die
by Offwithyourhead00
Summary: He sees her as a heartless Capitol woman. He's just a drunk man from a creepy District. They genuinely hate each other. Or do they? Effie and Haymitch's relationship on the 73rd Hunger Games.
1. The Inhuman Robot and Bad Mannered Man

**Hello everyone :) Effie and Haymitch slowly started to grow on me a few weeks ago, and I can't help but picture them as a couple. Well, they are not together in this fic, but I guess there might be a little something between them.  
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**This is my very first fic + English is not my native language, so forgive me for all the mistakes. Oh, and reviews are very welcomed :) It might be a multi-chapters if you guys find it interesting enough ! Thank you you wonderful people ! 3  
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**Chapter 1 :** The inhuman robot and bad mannered man.

The 73rd Hunger Games, day 1.

"Haymitch Abernathy."

An angry pair of high heels suddenly breaks his bubble of silence and he groans. _Clap clap_. Damn woman.

"Haymitch, how much of a prat can you be? Your case is so desesperate it makes me want to vomit."

"Get lost, Trinket" he replies in an angry yet sleepy voice. Covering his eyes with his left hand, he tightens his grip on his bottle with the other, almost wishing he could bury it into his chest to secure it from the woman standing before him.

"Look at me, Haymitch", Effie Trinket demands. Her voice is slightly shaking with anger and hatred, and something in it pushes Haymitch to obey. With a wince he removes his hand from his eyes and look up at her. She stands ten inches away from him, her hands on her hips, looking – as usual – incredibly stupid in those pink, Capitol clothes. Her orange wig and bright makeup are on, too.

"What do you want, Trinket?" Haymitch asks. He tries to stand up, not liking the way he has to raise his eyes to look at her, but the alcohol in his veins takes the better of him and he falls back on the carpet.

"Look at how pathetic you are," says Effie, rolling her eyes. "Don't you know you are supposed to be with the tributes right now? They are waiting for you to tell them how they can manage to stay alive, remember?" With a disgusted wince she bends over and grabs him by the shoulder. "Come on, get up."

"Leave me off", he replies angrily, jerking away from her touch. "I don't want you to come and baby sit me"

"Believe me Haymitch, if it was up to me I wouldn't even talk to you."

"Nobody told you to do so," he says. He was naturally stronger than her, and he easily manages to get away from her grip. With an angry face he stands up before her, staggering a little and, looking straight into his eyes, he takes a glup of alcohol.

"Give me this bottle," she orders, holding out her hand. He gives her a nasty look.

"I'm not listening to you any more,'' he replies, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You are a stupid and cold-hearted woman from the Capitol. I only take orders from intelligent and _human_ people." She flinches at his comment and for one second he's glad to see hurt reflecting on her face. But she quickly puts herself together.

"You should be ashamed of yourself, Haymitch" she snaps back, pointing a finger at him. "You know you are the only chance for those kids to stay alive. You can't let them..."

"Oh oh," he sniggers "here, are you actually showing out some feelings? Do you actually _care_ for those kids?" She simply stares at him, slightly taken aback. "I didn't know you were able to care for anyone, Trinket. You're showing some improvement here."

Effie's brows join in an angry frown as she snaps back "I wish you drown in your own vomit, Haymitch!" And then, she angrily steps away from him. "I'm done with you," she hisses. "Do whatever you want, it's none of my buisness anymore. I just hope you are proud of yourself."

He laughs as he watchs her clear the room, her hands angrily clenched in two solid fists. "Manners, Haymitch, manners!" he laughs, mimicing her Capitol accent. She doesn't answer.

When she gets back to the room where the tributes await, she finds them in the same position as they were before she leaves. The boy, a thin, dark-haired fourteen boy from the Seam nervously plays with his fork. The girl, one year older, her hair cut short and her eyes vacant, sits on a chair next to the window and seems lost in the contemplation of the landscape. Both are silent and still.

"I'm sorry," says Effie, making the girl jump, "but I'm afraid your mentor won't talk to you today." She doesn't give further explanations, guessing they probably don't want them anyway. The boy doesn't seem to be able to look at Effie, but the girl slowly turns her head and stares at her, a frigthened, cold glance full of fear and hatred. _Damn you, Haymitch_, Effie tells to herself. You can say the man was the girl's last hope.

"Will he come and see us tomorrow ?" asks the girl. "Or will he shut himself in his wagon for the whole journey?" Her voice is almost agressive.

"Well, you still can go and try to make him leave his bottle," answers Effie. She doesn't like the tone of the girl. As if she actually blames her for Haymitch's lame condition.

"That's not my job." says the girl before turning her head and leaning it against the windowpane. Effie feels a wave of anger take over her. First Haymitch, now the girl are showing a lack of respect towards her. And she can't help herself but not tolerate it.

"That's not mine either," she replies in an angry voice. "I'm here to escort you to the Capitol and then to the Games, not to take care of a drunkyard. He is your problem, not mine." She keeps silent after that, slightly ashamed of herself. The girl is no longer looking at her, nor talking. Actually, she looks like a weak ghost, trapped in its grave. Effies sighs, before walking away from them. For some reason, she can't stand staring at them. Poor, unfortunate kids. She had been wrong and mean with the girl. None of this was her fault. _Damn you, Haymitch_, she repeats to herself.

She used to be in an happy mood during the Games, or at least she succeded in pretending to be. Well, everybody could tell she was an excellent escort. Punctual, fashionable, talkative, ambitious, passionnate and funny, she had everything a tribute can wish for. But this was before she met Haymitch. Before meeting this drunk, once-upon-a-time victor from District 12. This man is a pain in the arse, she can't find other words to describe him.

She remembers the day they met. She had slept in the train and was feeling both excited and anxious at the idea of meeting the mentor of District 12. Her first sight of the place made her want to vomit : dirty streets in which were strolling dirty people with a nasty look on their face. Well, it was definitely not heaven here, and she couldn't understand – she still can't – how people can be that bad mannered. The houses in the Victor Village were – at least – clean, white and large, providing her a bit of relief. But she wasn't ready for the man sleeping inside.

Leaning on a table, his hair all messed up and wet, sweat stood out on his forehead, both of his hands were clutching a big bottle of a slightly brown liquid Effie identifies as liquor. She couldn't help but wince. The air inside was incredibly hot and muggy, damping her skin, but the worst was the smell. With each breath she took she wanted to throw up. Trying not to look at the mess around her, she took a few steps towards the man, not daring to shake his shoulder to make herself notice.

"Er, excuse me?" she tried, her voice hoarse. "Mister Abernathy," she said a little bit louder, "I'm sorry to bother you but..."

"Then don't." were his very first words to her. With a sigh he grabbed his bottle and lifted it to his mouth. She watched as drops of liquor fell on his face and rolled onto his neck.

"I'm sorry," she said again, "but you have to get ready. They are probalby all waiting for us, and I don't want to be late."

He looked at her with a somewhat deranged look, frowing as he was trying to recognize her. "Who are you?" he groaned.

"I'm Effie Trinket, the new escort. Nice to meet you." she held out a hand to him, which he stared at absently. "Now I really don't want to push you, but if you do not hurry we.."

"Leave me in peace, will you?" he said, but he stood up anyway. Well, he didn't stay on his feet for a long time because a second later he collapsed on the carpet with a loud _boom_. She desesperately looked at me, wondering what on earth she had done to deserve such a partner.

"Don't look at me like this," he says, rising up. "You can wait outside, I'll be ready in a minute."

Effie immediately walked to the door, longing for fresh air, but she suddenly stopped in her tracks, looking at the man with a doubtful glare. First, she was surprised he could remember which day it was, and which event they were going at, but she was also doubting he could take care of himself. She wasn't going to baby sit him anyway, so she just stood at the threshold, watching as he mumbled obsenities under his breath.

"I told you to get out, Madam Trinket," he said.

"Miss." she corrected. "I'm not that old."

"I don't know. I can't see your face beneath all that makeup."

"Maybe you could if you were not that drunk." she replied bitterly.

Both of the District 12 tributes came from the Seam. They both cried when they said their goodbyes, they both stayed silent as Effie informed them about their schedules, and they both looked lost and very small as they entered the train. But they both ate heartily, and despite Effie's orders they ignored the knifes and forks on the table. Haymitch, seated on a chair next to them, seemed absent, but Effie could swear he occasionally frowned at her.

She found out the girl from the Seam was really pretty. She had a tan skin, dark curls, and her eyes, although scared and uncertain, had something fascinating and charming about them. Her name was Lana. For a while, Effie managed to forget Haymitch, letting him alone in his room, supposing he had passed out somewhere when he wasn't attending a training. She spent most of her time with the tributes, trying to make them laugh, enjoying their compagny, trying to make Lana look more and more beautiful with each day passing.

Both tributes from District 12 died in the bloodbath of the first day, never making it to the Cornucopia. She cried for their death, seated on a couch next to Haymitch. She used to enjoy watching tributes die : it was such a good show. But this time, she had known them. She loved the girl. And watching her die was not entertainment but sheer horror. Haymitch turned off the TV and grabbed his bottle, letting her cry, her face buried in the couch pillow.

"Well, it's over now." he says numbly. "Your little dolls are out of the game."

She winces at his comment. "Haymitch..,can't you...be n-nice for once?" she let out between her sobs. Not that she wanted him to comfort her, but he could at least try to be kind.

"Sorry princess." he says sarcastically. "You better not cry though, it will only get worse with the years." And then he stood up and left the room. The next day he was on the train back to District 12, now useless in the Capitol.

As Haymitch said, the second year had been worst than the first. This time Effie tried not to pay too much attention to the tributes, knowing she will have to see them die, but she failed lamely. She started to understand why Haymitch drinks that much. It's his way to forget. She started to get attached to him. One night he was nowhere to be seen, she decided to look out for him. She found him dead drunk in a corridor, his liquor bottle still clenched in his hands. She still couldn't dare to touch him, so she called out an Avox and flew to her room. This year, the boy made it to the third day, but he died dehydrated for no sponsors would send him water. She blamed Haymitch for his death for days.

The third year she did touch him. To tell the truth, he was the one who made the move. He suddenly grabbed her hand as they were watching a fight between their tributes and another one. She tensed but didn't complain. He obviously was too drunk and too preoccupied by the fight to even realize he had reached for her. She didn't let go of his hand once the fight was over though, enjoying his warm fingers curled around hers, and when he fall asleep on the couch, she slowly got away from him, not daring to wake him up.

And now they are on their fourth year together, hating each other. He wondering why he is even here. She trying not to think too much, and loving the Capitol nevertheless. He can't understand her and thinks she's just a heartless, horrid, inhuman robot from the Capitol. She thinks he's a drunk, lost, stupid and bad mannered man from a creepy District.

When she checks on him by early evening, she finds him staring through the window, leaning on the hand-rail. He surprisingly looks sober.

"Haymitch." she calls him softly. He's quite long to react. Finally, with a sigh, he turns his head to look at her. He had always been good at hiding his feelings, so she's genuinely surprised to see hurt and worry reflecting on his eyes. He holds his gaze for a few minutes before lowering his head with another sigh.

"What do you want, princess?" Here again. The nickname he gave her is always pronounced with mockery and sarcacism. She hates it when he talks to her this way. As if she means nothing at all.

"The kids." she answers in a cold voice. "They need you Haymitch, and you are _not_ with them." She leans on the hand-rail next to him as she continues. "Do you realize you are their only chance to survive ? If you do not stop drinking and let them on their own, they won't make it. They won't make it Haymitch, unless you help them."

"Come on Effie, do you think me teaching them how to survive will help? They will die anyway." he says bitterly.

"Well, I guess it'll give them hope. At least they'll be able to hope that they have a chance."

He considers what she's said in silence. "Whatever." he says, for one second allowing himself to meet her eyes. "That won't prevent them from dying in the end."

_Why is he sounding so desesperate?_ wonders Effie. She doesn't allow herself to think he's sad - no, devastated, at the idea of losing another pair of tributes. Because she's an escort, and she must _not _think like that.

"You're being over dramatic Haymitch," she says in an annoyed tone.

"Oh yes, forgive me." he mocks. "I momentarily forgot that the very aim of the Games actually _is_ their death. How could I forget ? Of course I have to be with them, teach them how to survive so they get stronger and can offer a better show!" Effie takes a step away from him. His cheeks are red with fury and he's looking at her in such a way that she feels suddenly scared. "You know Effie, I don't want to be a piece in the Games." he spits at her. "I don't want to teach them how to kill their fellow tributes. And, by the way, I trully wish they will die in the arena, so that they won't have to deal with all the hell that suddenly surrounds you once you've have won !"

His voice is so loud now that Effie fears the tributes may hear him. She raises her hands, telling him to calm down, when a cough both makes them jump. Here is the boy, standing right before them. Effie can feel Haymitch freeze beside her, and she easily can understand why. Even if he means what he said, he probably didn't want the tributes to hear it. But the only thing the boy says is "Will we be arriving soon?" They both are sightly taken aback by his question. The boy quietly stares at them, waiting.

"We'll enter the Capitol tomorrow by late morning." answers Effie in a soft voice. The boy stares at them for while, almost shyly, before turning on his heel and walking away. Effie turns over and pretends to be lost in the contemplation of the landscape, not willing to talk to Haymitch after his outburst. She can hear him getting his breath back.

"How long do you think he will last?" he asks.

"Oh please," she sighs, " I don't want to talk about it."

He slowly turns is head towards her. "What? I thought you loved that." he says in a soft, snappish, cruel voice that makes her blush. She wants to slap him for his comment, she really does, but something in his eyes dissaudes her from doing so. She doesn't know, really; it's a mix of anger, hurt, desesperation and hatred. But there's something nice and sweet about it too.


	2. Of Lamps and Bottles

**Chapter 2 : **Of Lamps and Bottles.

The 73rd Hunger Games, day 2.

"Here you are princess, why do I always have to walk around the whole building to find you?"

"Maybe if you weren't so slow-witted." Effie replies, an annoyed look in her eyes as she readjusts her orange wig. ''Are you sober ?'' she squints, trying to have a proper look at his face. He smirks and points to the clipboard she's holding.

''What's on schedule ? '' he asks. She looks at him with evident disguts.

''You're really out of it, aren't you ?.'' she sighs. ''The tributes are, surprisingly enough, waiting for you.''

''Again ?'' he groans. ''Why ?'' His answer forces a desesperate sigh from Effie. She waves her arms at him, as if to wake him up.

''Panem to Haymitch! Do you even _know_ where we are ? They are getting ready for the chariot ride and you ought to be with them. Cheer them on.''

''Can't you do it yourself ?'' he groans. She rolls her eyes at him and pushes him towards the door.

''You're the damn mentor, Haymitch.''

They walk through empty corridors in silence, ignoring each other. When they arrive at the bottom level of the Remake Centre, crowds of people are already there, fussing over the tributes. Pair of them are being loaded into their chariot, waiting for the ceremony to begin. That seems to bother Effie.

''We are late.'' she hisses to Haymitch, giving him a – _and it's entirely your fault_ – look. ''Well, I mean _you_ are late, because I'm not supposed to be here. But since you can't seem to handle yourself...''

''I know, I know,'' he interrupts her, not willing to hear her lecture. ''You can leave now'' he says, waving his hand at her. He gives a strange look at a man with long aqua hair and red tatoos on his cheeks who walks past him. How inhuman they all look with their extravagant hairdo, outfits and makeup. Here in the Capitol they are called ''fashionable'' in the districts, they are just freaks.

He takes a quick glance at Effie. She's wearing a blue extravagant dress, and her usual leather high-heels shoes. He can't see the colour of her skin beneath her makeup, nor the natural colour of her hair – for as long as he has known her, she's worn those silly colorful wigs. But she has some qualities he can't deny : she's determinate, talkative, sometimes funny and even smart. And, compared to the other escorts he had known, she actually can _feel_. Of course she's clueless and he's right about telling she's robot-like, but Effie seems a little bit more human than the other Capitol inhabitants. And thanks to this he appreciates her a bit. A tiny, little bit.

''Here they are.'' Effie points a finger at the last chariot, pulled by four coal-black horses . Looking unsure and scared stand their two tributes, dressed in a black jumpsuit and a hat with a white lamp on it. Haymitch can't help but laugh at how stupid they look.

''What, are they supposed to make an impression dressed like _this _?'' he mocks ''These are the worst outfits our tributes have worn for years ! Where is the stylist ?''

''This is not her fault if your discrit's principal industry is coal-mines'' replies Effie bitterly.

''I just thought you guys from the Capitol had a better imagination.'' shrugs Haymitch. He doesn't wait for her to reply and walks towards their tributes, catching a glimpse of a wince on Effie's face. Good,. He loves when she gets angry because of him.

When he reachs the chariot, the girl looks up at him. He frowns. What's her name again ? He can't remember. She must have said it though, several times.

''Finally we have a chance to talk to you.'' says the girl. Her voice is angry and snappish, to snappish for his liking.

''Relax sweetheart,'' he mocks. ''It's not because you look like a lamp that you must be that unpleasant.'' The girl frowns. ''Come on, it's not that bad. When you look at it from miles away, anway.'' The girl's mouth drops open. Haymitch can't help but laugh at her face.

''Can't you be serious for one second ?'' asks the girl. ''You're supposed to give us some advices !''

_Here again_, thinks Haymitch. _She sounds like Effie. _He takes a step forward and slowly starts to stroke one of the horses' neck.

''There's nothing I can tell you but this,'' he says. ''smile, laugh, look happy. Make sure the crowd remembers you.'' He stares in both tributes' eyes. ''And if you can, make them _love_ you.''

''How ?'' asks the girl.

''You know, I think I like your fellow tribute here.'' says Haymicth, pointing at the boy who immediately blushes. ''He's quieter than you, I like that. You're asking too many questions.''

The opening music begins and massive doors slide open. Soon enough the chariot of District 1 moves forward, surrounded by the cheers and shouts of the crowd. Even if he can't see them, Haymitch easily imagines the District 1 tributes' outfits : sparkling like white diamonds. District 1 makes luxury items for the Capitol. When Haymitch looks back at his tributes, he has to force himself not to laugh once again at how stupid they look. A woman with purple hair, who he supposes to be their stylist, arrives and turns on their lamp.

''There.'' she says. ''You're perfect. Remember, smile, head high.'' she adds, before walking away.

Well, they don't look perfect at all, actually. But very pale. Scared and shaking. Especially the boy. Their faces, enlighten by the soft light of the lamp, take a yellowish shade.

''Phoenix said it might help to please the crowd if we act like friends.'' says the boy in a low voice, which almost gets drown out by the music. Haymitch frowns.

''Who's Phoenix again ?''

There's a dead silence, anxious looks that make Haymitch understand he has just done a mistake.

''That's my name.'' says the girl in a calm, yet deadly voice. Beside her, the boy lowers his head. Hopefully the chariot starts to move forward, and the last thing Haymitch can catch of Phoenix is a piercing gaze, boiling with hatred. Then she has her back turned on him as she slowly raises her head, ready for the ride. But the boy shyly turns his head, staring straight into Haymitch's eyes. His look means only one thing : _help_.

Day 4.

''This is good, honestly.'' says Effie with a big smile. ''Excellent even. Usually tributes from District 12 don't get such a good score.''

''Thanks Effie.'' says Phoenix with a smile. She looks at Billy - the boy's name, who slowly nods.

Haymitch only groans. They had been watching the television in the sitting room, waiting for the scores of the personnal trainings to be announced. Haymitch didn't know what to hope for. In training, Phoenix proved she is clever with a knife, but she hasn't got any real skills. As for Billy, he had spent the last three days wandering around, not really paying attention to anything. He averaged a 3. But, surprisingly enough, Phoenix came up with a 6 which is, for a District 12 tribute, a real success. Haymitch glances at her, wondering what she did to average such a score. Maybe cut some throats.

''Now we all have to concentrate on your interviews.'' says Effie. She looks really thrilled, waving her hands as she talks. ''Of course, the crowd will be very curious at you Phoenix. You'll have to give them something they can discuss on all night long, understand ?''

''Please, no more lamps.'' scoffs Haymitch.

Effie gives him a quizzical look. _He's drunk_, she thinks. He looks like he's going to pass out on the couch. Deep, dark rings under his eyes. His hands are loosely clenched around a bottle. How can he shows up like this before the kids ?

''You better go to bed now.'' she says, standing up. ''You'll need you sleep. Tomorrow is a big, big, big day !''. She kisses Billy and Phoenix on the cheek before shoving them out of the room.

Haymitch watches her as she stands before him, her hands on her hips.

''What ?'' he mumbles.

''You know very well what. You are of no use at all.''

''She got a good score.'' he replies.

''And not thanks to you.'' Effie takes a step forward and suddenly snatchs the bottle out of his hands.

''Hey !'' he protests. ''Give it back to me.''

''Not a chance.'' she smirks. ''Go to bed too. You look like you've not slept for ages.''

''Damn you woman.'' he growls, trying to stand up. ''I warn you. Give it back to me.''

''Goodnight, Haymicth.''

''You...'' he tries to say something, but his sentence only comes out as unintelligible growls. ''At least bring me a blanket.'' he orders finally.

''Why ?'' she asks. ''You are not going to sleep on the couch, are you ?''

''Why not ?''

She sighs and walks to her room. When she comes back to the sitting room, she's holding a white blanket in one hand and sleeping pills in the other. ''I thought you might need them too'' she simply says.

''How nice of you.'' he replies, taking the pills and the blanket without looking at her.

A few minutes later she sits before her mirror, wiping the makeup off her face. She also removes her orange wig, quickly tying her natural hair into a ponytail as she winces. She'd always hated her hair. Those blond curls make her look so stupid.

Twenty minutes later, she's laying on her bed, waiting for sleep to surround her. She can't seem to be able to close her eyes.

Something is wrong. Her clipboard. She forgot it on the sitting room, next to the TV set ! With a sigh she stands up and walks to the room. A dark figure makes her stop on the threshold. She blinks, trying to adjust to the darkness. Haymitch actually did fell asleep on the couch.

He's snoring softly. Obviously, the sleeping pills were effective. The blanket lays on the floor. His right arm is covering his eyes. Effie can't help but smile as she watchs him sleep, his chest slowly raising and falling as he breathes.

She tiptoes through the room, doing her best not to wake him up. As she's making her way back to her room, Haymitch let out an unhappy noise, making her freeze. He moves slighty on the couch, and then everything falls back to silence. Effie stays still for a while. And then, without thinking, she walks towards him, clutching her clipboard against her chest. The sight of him sleeping somehow soothes her. He's so different from the dirty, drunk man from District 12. In sleep, he looks as harmless and sweet as a child.

Once more he wrinkles his nose and forehead unhappily. Assuming he's having a bad dream, she slowly leans on and softly kisses his cheek. Then she freezes, wondering what she has done but, as she stares at him, she sees the corners of his mouth lift ever so slightly. She smiles.

As she tiptoes out of the room, she lets out a faint ''Goodnight Haymitch'' before closing the door.

**Once again, forgive me for the mistakes. Let me know what you think :) **

**Sarah. xx**


	3. The Guilty One

Chapter 3 : The guilty one.

Day 6.

There is one thing Haymitch Abernathy can't stand, and this thing is watching his tributes die. It drives him mad. Makes him want to die himself. He tried everything : morphling, indifference, contempt. The only successful thing he has found so far is alcohol. Thanks to alcohol, he can forget.

He first found it awful. Hangovers weren't his thing. He didn't like the way his mouth felt either, all patty. No, really, he wasn't keen on alcohol. But then things changed. He became addicted to it.

First of all, it makes him forget. Forget about the tributes, about the things they have to undergo. About their death. Forget about his own life, too. His own Games. But also, it gives him some warmth. Sends him into a world where nothing matters, where he doesn't have to worry for the ones he cares about. Not that there's a lot of them left anyway. But still.

The day the 73rd Hunger Games begin, he finds refuge in a small bar next to the Training Center. He doesn't have the bravety to face Phoenix and Billy before they enter the arena. He doesn't have anything to tell them. And they probably hate him too much to want him to be with them anyway. The bartender knows him well he makes him sit as far away from the television which is broadcasting the Games as possible. After two or three drinks, his ears become deaf and he starts to forget everything that surrounds him. And it feels good. Very good.

He doesn't know if Billy and Phoenix will make it through the first day. Damn, the boy is unable to harm anyone ! He has spent his whole life in the Seam, trying to survive, trying to stay alive. People, his family, his friends, were the only things he could hang on to. He naturally loves people. He's not going to try and kill them or hurt them, that's one thing Haymitch is sure about. If he sees someone running at him with a weapon, he'll not try to defend himself because defence would mean fighting back, and he's not a fighter. Somehow, Haymitch has already anticipated his death.

The girl is of different matter. Not that she has a chance to be crowned victor, but she has a potential. Her hand won't waver. She may have a chance to survive one day or two. Honestly, Haymitch doesn't know if it's a good thing. The sooner she dies the less she'll suffer.

Beside him two young Capitol men start to cheer and shout at the screen. Something appealing must be happening in the arena. He can feel the tension is building up in the room. Someone screams ''poor boy !'' in an ironical tone and others laugh, like if they're enjoying a good show. They _are_ enjoying a good show, thinks Haymitch. They are nothing but animals watching with wide avid eyes other animals slaughtering each other.

And suddenly Haymitch feels like he can't stay here anymore. It seems that this time even alcohol can't bring him comfort. He can see the Capitol citizens' faces too clearly he can hear their voices as if they were crying into his ear. He stands up, trying to make his way to the exit door. But the room is far too crowded. Groups of people, families, friends, have gathered into the bar to watch the Games. They shoot him cold glances as he ineptly pushes them aside, whisper things under their breath as some of them recognise him. Yes, he's the drunk mentor from District 12, the one who vomits on important people's feet, the one who says rude things to cameras when he's not covering up a hangover. Someone takes a step aside and suddenly he's standing right before the television set. There's a bloody girl's face on the screen. She jumps down just in time to avoid the arrow which has been shot at her, grabs one of the bags laying on the ground and runs to the forest opposite the Cornucopia. The cameras follow her as she disappears between the trees. So Phoenix survived the bloodbath. He doesn't know what to think about it.

He takes deep breaths of fresh air as he closes the door behind him. Most of the streets are empty, which is not a big surprise considering that every single Capitol citizen is avidly watching the Hunger Games. The first day has always been the best that's when you can fully enjoy or discover tributes' secret skills. But, above all, it holds the promise of several spectacular deaths.

He doesn't want to go back to the Training Centre. He doesn't want to face the other mentors, the escorts, the stylists, the sponsors. They will spend the whole day praising for the survivors and chatting about the dead. But he doesn't have anywhere else to go, so he walks to the massive building. He may try and pretend he's drunk as a shrunk, so that people leave him alone.

When he enters their quarters at the twelfth floor of the building, Effie's avidly talking with the aqua hair stylist. She immediately runs to him.

''Where in the name of Panem were you ?'' she asks in an enthusiastic voice ''We've been all over the place looking for !''

''Out.'' he simply says, trying to walk past her. But she grabs her arms, stopping him in his tracks.

''Have you at least watched the Games ?'' Her eyes are wide open with excitement. He shakes his head. ''They both made it ! '' she exclaims in a high-pitched voice. ''Billy is hiding in a cave and Phoenix is still running away from the Cornucopia. I don't know when she'll stop, she has so much energy within her !'' Haymitch watchs her, wondering if she realizes how silly and naïve she sounds.

''This is great, princess.'' he says. He tries to walk away, but she doesn't let go of his arm.

''I've been talking to every important people I know in the Capitol.'' she drawls looking straight into his eyes. ''Told them that tributes from District 12 ought not to be neglected. But you know that you're the only one who can seal the sponsors deal for them.'' Her message is clear. Do your job.

He growls and jerks away from her. ''Don't worry princess.'' he says, heading for his room.

''Haymitch !'' Effie calls him. ''You won't find any sponsor in your room !'' He ignores her and slams the door behind him.

He sits on his bed, looking all around the place. Trying to find something to do. His eyes find the sleeping pills on the bedside table. He asked Effie for more two days ago, and now takes some everytime he wants to sleep. They are of no use against nightmares, but, when he's relatively sober, falling asleep is easier thanks to them.

Sleep. It's the best thing he can do now. He can sleep all day and, hopefully, Phoenix and Billy will both be dead when he wakes up. Not that he wants them to be; but now that they are in the arena, that's all he can wish them. He locks his door, lays on his bed and swallows the pills with a glup of water. He closes his eyes.

He's flying. He's flying through a forest. No, it's not a forest he's in the arena. He can feel it. He _knows_ it. This place looks like hell.

There's someone beside him. He turns his head and sees Phoenix. She's running. Running. But then she stops, breathing heavily. She's standing before a very small pond. Gazing at the water as if wondering if she can approach it. After a minute or two she sits on the ground and plunges her hands into the water. She sighs in relief. She's lowering her head when Haymitch sees a boy materialize behind her. He's grinning, holding an axe in his right hand. Moving towards her.

Haymitch wants to scream. He wants to warn Phoenix, but his mouth stays obstinately shut. As if his lips are glued and he can't make a sound. He watchs as the boy raises his axe and lets it fall onto Phoenix's neck. Haymitch's body freezes in horror as he sees the girl's eyes widen in shock. Her body collapses on the grass. The grass covered with blood.

The forest and Phoenix's corpse begin to slowly fade away, and soon she's replaced by a blurred figure. Haymitch has to squint to see her properly. It's a young woman, with blond hair tied in a ponytail and a pale skin. She's looking at him. He stares back at her the woman seems vaguely familiar. But he can't put a name on her face.

She's walking towards him. Holding something against her chest, but he doesn't know what. And why can't he move ? He seems to be laying on something, something comfortable, but he can't stand up. As if his whole body is paralyzed. The woman is slowly leaning towards him, and her face suddenly enlightens. And then it hits him. It's Effie. But a natural, normal-looking Effie. She actually looks so normal that he didn't recognise her at first sight. But now he can see it. Her blue eyes are sparkling, looking tenderly at him. Without her lipstick, her lips are of a soft pink. Is he imagining it or are her lips now close to his cheek ? He can feel them, soft and warm on his skin. And then she's moving away from him and he tries to call her, to ask her to stay but everything around him goes black, and when the light comes back he's in the arena again.

But it is not Phoenix's dead body laying beside him. It's Effie's.

His heart nearly stops. What is Effie doing in the arena ? How did she come here ? Why is she laying on the ground ? He crawls towards her, taking her hand into his. Her skin is cold. Her name escapes his lips as he slowly shakes her shoulders, waiting for her to open her eyes. Knowing deep inside that she won't.

He presses his hands against his eyes, rubbing them as if to chase the sight of Effie's dead body away. When he removes his hands, it's Phoenix's rigid face that welcomes him. As awful as it is given the situation he can't help but sigh in relief. Effie's fine. She's never gone to the arena.

Phoenix's face vanishes and is replaced by Billy's. His eyes wide open with horror. Billy's not here anymore Haymitch is standing above his last year tribute's bloody face. And they suddenly all come and go before his eyes. All of his past tributes. All of them dead.

It seems to Haymitch that the boy with the axe, Phoenix's murderer, is standing behind him, grinning licentiously. Staring at the victims. But he's not the one who killed the District 12 tributes. He's not the killer, because when Haymtich raises his head and looks at him straight in the eyes, he finds himself staring at his own face. And suddenly he understands. As everything around him fades away he feels cold terror spread through his veins.

He wakes with a start, his breathing heavy, sweat covering his forehead. As he raises his hands he can see how shaking they are.

He's the one who killed them. All of them. He shakily strokes his temples, trying to soften the pounding in his head. He killed them. Well, not directly of course, but what has he done to help them ? Did he try to get them sponsors ? Did he advice them, did he teach them how to fight for their life ? Effie's words echo around his head : d_o you realize you are their only chance to __survive ? _She's been right since the very beginning. How disdainful he must have look to her eyes, wasting his time drinking, whining and sleeping. Not doing anything at all.

Haymitch forces himself to breathe in and out. To take slowly, shaking breaths. When he's calm enough, he gets up and looks out at the sky. He hasn't slept a lot it must be late afternoon, maybe early evenning.

He still has the time.

**Here is chapter 3 !:) I know it's a bit short, but I'll do my best for the next ones to be longer. **

**Thank you guys for your nice reviews ! They made my day :)**

**And don't forget : reviews = happy writer = better story ! XD So don't hesitate praise or criticism are more than welcomed. **

**Love you all. 3 Sarah**

**P.S : I'll never stop being sorry for the mistakes. Blame my parents for living in France.**


	4. Dear Billy

Chapter 4 Dear Billy.

Day 7.

"He's going to die if he doesn't find water!" Effie's reproachful eyes fall on Haymitch as she speaks. He decides to ignore her gaze and focuses on the screen before him. Billy sat, his back leaning against a trunk. His eyes are closed, his lips crackled and both of his hands are stroking his neck, as if trying to soothe some pain in it. Ragged, hoarse breaths escape from his mouth.

"He really, really needs water." insists Effie. Her tone is still angry, but Haymitch can hear fear breaking through her voice.

"Don't you think I know that?" he replies bitterly.

She shoots him a cold glance, which clearly means: _you should be trying to win some sponsors right now, not lazily sitting here_. He grits his teeth. _Wait and see_, he thinks.

Damn, the woman exasperates him. Can't she just shut up? He doesn't even have a liquor bottle within reach. Blame it on Effie too. She ordered an Avox to clear up their quarters of any bottle containing alcohol, and made it crystal clear to Haymitch that she would do the same with every bottle she'd lay her eyes on. So he quickly gathered the bottles the Avox hadn't found and locked them in a cupboard in his bedroom. He trully hated Effie right now. She can be as cruel as the devil when she wants to.

"How long do you think he can last without water?" Effie's eyes are full of concern. Well, she really cares for the boy.

"Maybe one more day, if he's strong enough." He can see her frown, but she doesn't add anything. She stays silent and still, staring at the screen until Billy's frail body is replaced by a District 10 tribute.

Effie immediately jumps to her feet. "What are they doing? she asks in a high-pitched voice. "Why are they no longer broadcasting him?"

Haymitch just shrugs. "He's of no interest right now. Really, who wants to see a dehydrated boy clutching for life? You can sit down, princess. They'll show him when he takes his last breath."

Effie shoots him an horrified look. "You're not serious."

He snorts. "Hello, where have you been all these years? It's the Hunger Games, sweetheart, not some kind of everything-is-fine show."

Her frightened eyes hold his cold glaze for a while, then she falls back on the couch. He shoots her an interested glance. It seems that human Effie is on. He can hear her mumble things under her breath.

"What was that?" he asks.

"Nothing." she answers, her eyes darting around as if she's expecting someone a peacekeeper maybe to enter the room and take her to jail or to an even worst place. But as no one shows up, she leans towards Haymitch until her lips are one centimeter away from his ear. "I've just said it's not fair. What's happening to Billy, and the other tributes too." For one second their eyes met and Haymitch can see hatred in her blue irises. But it's not her usual hatred against him, or against someone who's not doing his job well. No. This time, her hatred is held against the Capitol itself.

She moves away from him, looking back at the screen has if nothing happened. But Haymitch can't stop thinking about what she just said. He shoots her regular glances, which she doesn't return. He actually feels amazed. Never, ever had he dreamt that he would hear these words coming from her. Effie Trinket is a Capitol citizen in love with her city, in love with her job, in love with the Hunger Games. She's not a woman who whispers bad things against the Capitol. Or is she?

For a second he tries to imagine Effie as a rebel and has to force himself not to laugh at the idea. The woman with perfect clothes, makeup and good manners, who has never been hungy once in her life, who can't survive without her nail polish and lipstick wouldn't last a second in a world of fighting and rebellion.

The cameras are back on Billy now. He's looking up at something, and soon a smile appears on his lips. Haymitch crosses his arms behind his head, leaning deeper against the couch. _Watch it Effie_. He can't help but smile as a small silver parachute falls at Billy's feet. Attached to it is a flask full of fresh water.

The gift has an immediate effect on both Billy and Effie. The boy lets out a laughter of relief and grabs the flask, opens it with shaking hands before raising it to his lips. Effie's mouth drops open and she turns around to face Haymitch.

"You..." she lets out, looking both astonished and amazed.

"Well, I listened to you and spoke to a few people. Mainly sponsors." answers Haymitch in an impassive yet amused tone. "Told them I have to stay with a mad woman who'll slaughter me if I don't try and keep her beloved tributes alive."

Effie shoots him an annoyed look but he can see she's struggling to suppress a smile.

"You look like you didn't think I was able to do it." Haymitch adds, sounding deceptively hurt. "It wasn't that difficult, actually. Seneca and me are great friends now."

"Oh, I can guess so." Effie mocks. "Seneca has always felt concerned about mistreated men. But I'm glad," she adds as her eyes sotfen "that you've finally decided to mentor the kids." She smiles and indicates the TV with a jerk of her head. "Billy wouldn't have made it without your help."

As he stares into her blue eyes he can't help but feel grateful to her. He can clearly see she's proud of him. Well, it wasn't much actually, but the thought of Effie being proud of him soothes him somehow.

For a moment he wants to open up to her. For a moment he wants to tell her that he genuinely tried to help his first pair of tributes, 23 years ago. A seventeen-year old boy and eighteen-year old girl, both from the Seam. They looked fierce and strong, so fierce and strong that he actually thought one of them could win. He pulled his soul into mentoring the two kids. They both died at the Cornucopia.

Never had he felt so helpless in his whole life. Not even when his name had been called as the male tribute for District 12, or when he had found his family and girlfriend's dead bodies laying on the floor of his bedroom. Roses spread over them. So he started drinking. Bit by bit he gave up on his tributes. Watched them die one by one, years after years. He gave up on them until a eccentric, talkative, clueless escort came into his life and pushes him to pull himself together. So no, he definitely can't tell her. Because by doing so he would have to confess how important she is to him. And he can't. So the only thing he says is, "You owe me a drink, princess."

She laughs, and the sound of her voice echoing around the room sounds so beautiful to him that he can't wipe a smile off his face.

_

Effie's hands are thighly clutched around the couch pillow. Her eyes, wide open in anticipation, seem way too big to fit on her small face. Haymitch can pratically feel the fear radiating out of her pores.

It's eight o'clock in the evening. Phoenix is still moving forward; you can tell she's looking for a safe place to sleep. Somehow she'll manage to find one. Haymitch is not worried about her; right now, it's Billy who makes him want to punch someone's face.

He's fighting. Hard. Against the tall, hefty, eighteen–year old tribute from District 4. Deep inside, Haymitch knows he doesn't stand a chance, and this time neither him nor any sponsor can do a thing about it. Billy is taking his last breaths. Haymitch wants to shout at the screen, to rise and break it into a million pieces, but he stays still and silent. For Effie. Because he doesn't want her to give up hope.

The District 4 tribute's spear breaks through Billy's stomach with a disgusting noise and Effie lets out a shriek, putting her hands on her mouth. Billy winces, his face reflecting both panic and surprise, and he loudly falls on the ground, his eyes fighting to stay open. This is how it happens. The death of their male tribute. He fell on his belly, so he doesn't even earn the opportunity to catch a last glimpse of the sun.

District 4 tribute takes a few steps away and stops, waiting for the cannon to announce Billy's death. He waits.

Then Effie's frightened words echo in the room. "Is he dead?" In answer, the cannon fires.

She doesn't cry, or break down, or even sigh. She just stays still, her hands clenched into two solid fists. She doesn't say a thing because right now, in a room full of microphones, whining against the unfairness of it all would only result in her imprisonment or death. She slowly stands up, her legs trembling slightly. Haymitch watchs as she walks towards the door, not daring to keep her from going, not knowing what to say in order to comfort her. He's speechless. He can't find the good words to say. So she's the one who speaks.

"Goodnight, Haymitch." she says in a cold, impassive voice. He doesn't hear her words immediately, though. They only make their way through his cloudy mind when he hears the soft slam of the door as she closes it.

A part of his mind tells him to stand up and walk after Effie. To lay in bed with her and cry for the loss of their tribute. But another part of him, a stronger, firmer one, orders him not to do so. Orders him to lock himself in his own room and drink until he knocks himself out. So, like a good-mannered child, he quietly obeys and walks out of the sitting room. Damn, he will need more than one bottle tonight.

And so he drinks.

He drinks until he can't tell the difference between which way is down and which way is up. He drinks until he passes out in early morning and wakes up a few hours later only to throw up on his bedroom carpet. But he can't drink enough to ignore the pity and disappointed look Effie tosses in his direction when he joins her around noon.

**Haymitch is (almost) a good mentor now. XD Please tell me what you think of the story so far, and feel free to tell me if there's something you'd like to see happen. Maybe more Hayffie romance?**

**Thanks a lot to all of you AND to my new beta ****SmurfsTasteGoodOnToast**

**Love, Sarah.**


	5. Keep Your Head Up

**Chapter 5 : **Keep your head up.

Day 8.

_Billy is dead._

_Yes, but Phoenix is still alive._

_I don't care. She'll die anyway._

_You shouldn't give up on her so easily. Why do you think she won't make it?_

_She's too weak. She's scared. She's young. She hasn't been trained enough._

_You weren't trained yourself._

_It's not the same. I was physically stronger._

_Liar. It's a lie and you know it. The truth is that you're too much of a coward._

_You better shut your mouth. I'm not a liar. I just see things as they really are._

_Effie would be ashamed of you._

_Why do you always have to bring up Effie?_

_Don't know. Just saying._

Haymitch is having a hard time with himself. He can't make up his mind. He has come to a state of extreme confusion. In a nutshell, he doesn't know what to do. Of course, he could keep on fighting for Phoenix, spend days trying to convince the sponsors of her potential - he would actually do it if he wasn't so sick and tired of pretending, hoping again and again only to end up disenchanting and hurt. He isn't like the other mentors, or like Effie. He isn't brave enough.

When he'd been crowned victor of the 50th Hunger Games, he had found comfort in the idea that he would finally be left alone, that he would make himself forget. Those were the only things he hung on to: peace and tranquility. He couldn't have been more wrong. Now, not only is he forced to remember his own Games, but he has to mentor kids, knowing what they'll have to undergo, knowing they'll have to suffer and learn to accept the possibility, the probability. of death. It's like he has to live through the nightmare of his Games again and again.

Now and again, he trully wishes he had died in the arena.

And yet, watching his tributes die isn't the only awful thing he has to undergo whilst he's in the Capitol. There're all those nightmares, all those foolish, freak-looking people who chuckle and run everywhere and act like they are doing the most important thing in the world – and then there's Effie. Not that Effie is a problem in herself – she's actually much better than all the other escorts he worked with, but she despises him. She shoots him regular disappointed or angry or disgusted glances, like she thinks he's not able to do anything by himself or he doesn't deserve her time - and that hurts.

Effie isn't like the other escorts. He would plague them, make sure they won't come back the following year. He would drink, sleep all day, speak in a rude way, take them into a hug in front of important people just to embarrass them. At first, he did the same with Effie. But she did come back the second year. And she came back the third year, too. And he realized that he didn't want her to go.

He doesn't know why she affects him this much, really. Not that he particularly likes her, no, - sometimes he can barely stand her. But there's something about her that he finds attractive.

Well, she's definitely pretty. But the fact is he can't see her real face beneath her make-up. One of the thing he aches to do is to wait until she falls asleep by night and eventually have a peek at her through her bedroom door. But he hasn't been able to do it so far since – as if she had read his mind - she always locks her door.

No. His I-hate-you-but-not-too-much relationship with Effie is due to the fact that, not only can she handle him but she actually believes in him. And that makes all the difference. And that is the reason why her disappointed looks are so painful to him. Contrary to what the other escorts thought, Effie is convinced he still can be a good mentor, and she keeps on pushing him. She still hasn't given up hope on him.

Which only means two things : either she's a fighter or a complete fool.

Haymitch takes a look at his watch as he enters his room. Nearly midnight. Perfect. The only thing he's longing to do is to collapse on his bed, close his eyes and forget everything about this dreadful day. But first, he thinks with a smile, his bottles. He needs to drink. To feel the warmth of the alcohol going down his body. It's his only way to keep the nightmares away.

With a guilty smile playing on his lips he walks to the cupboard he keeps his bottles in, opens the door and freezes. The damn thing is empty. Not one single liquor bottle left.

"What the...?" And then he knows. With an angry groan he slams the door shut and clears his room. One second later he's urgently knocking at Effie's bedroom door.

"Trinket, open up!" he screams. He doesn't care about the time, doesn't care she's probably asleep. All he wants is for her to stop controlling his life.

"Trinket!" he repeats as he tries to open the door but only to find it locked. "You better wake up Effie or I'm going to..."

"Stop screaming." answers a sleepy and faint voice. He can hear motion inside the room.

"Open the door." he orders.

"What d'you want?"

"My damn bottles!" he groans. "I know you're the only one here selfish enough to steal them from me. How did you know where I kept them anyway?" She keeps silent for a while.

"Trinket, I'm really..."

"I didn't steal them." she says in an annoyed tone. ''You're no longer allowed to drink during the Games, that's all.''

She's kidding him, right? ''Says who?'' he growls.

''Says me.''

He winces. ''You have no authority over me, woman. Let me in."

"Even if I wanted to I wouldn't," she answers behind the door.

He groans in protest, grabbing the handle and trying to unlock it. ''Look, Trinket, it's not funny. Let me in.''

''I can't,'' says Effie in a cold voice.

''Really? You're too scared of me?'' he replies in too agressive a voice for his liking, but the woman is really pushing him over the edge. And then it hits him. ''Oh, right,'' he hisses '' I momentarily forgot : you can't face me without makeup on.'' By her lack of answer he understands that he's right. ''Come on little bird, you can get out of your cage, I won't bite you. Even if you're as hideous as you think you are.''

''Leave me alone,'' answers Effie in a tight voice which is so much not like hers. He can clearly hear controlled anger breaking through her voice.

''You leave me alone," Haymitch replies, pointing a finger at her door. "Since when do you decide whether I can drink? I'm a grown man you know, I can handle myself without you ferreting around.''

"Let me laugh,'' she snaps. "I you can barely remember your name every other day. You're really out of it, you irresponsible drunk.''

He laughs. '' You're the one who is out of it Trinket, but you can't even realize it. Look at yourself : a clueless, ridiculous, heartless woman who sends innocent kids into slaughter for her own pleasure. I'm not very different from them for you, am I? Another human being you can play with.'' He stops, waiting for her to defend herself. She doesn't. ''You're not even superficial, or stupid.'' Although she can't see him, he smirks fiendishly. ''You're a very cold, heartless, inhuman person.''

He can hear a slight bang, as if she's tried to slap him through the door, then footsteps as she runs away from him. He stays frozen until he hears her bathroom door slam, echoing throughout the silent rooms.

The slam somehow forces him back to reality, and he blinks stupidly as he realizes what he's just said. Haymitch swears loudly as a mountain of guilt crashes over his head. He stands still, the hasty beatings of his heart ringing out into his head as he pricks up his ear for any sound coming from the room.

He is about to walk away when he hears it. A sob. A very soft, muffled sound that hits him straight in the heart. He feels his stomach drops as he imagines Effie, locked into her bathroom, clinging to the sink as she cries her eyes out. He has already seen and heard her cry before, but never because of him. And being the reason of her sorrow hurts like hell.

''Effie, Effie I'm so sorry...please sweetheart, open the door.'' He closes his eyes as more muffled sobs answer him. No **, she's not going to let him in tonight. He wouldn't even be surprised if she never talks to him again.

When the pain of hearing her cry becomes unbearable he slowly walks away, biting his lip until he draws blood, welcoming the physical pain.

He wakes up early the next morning. His head hurts, but he can't blame the alcohol for it. He didn't – he couldn't – drink much last night, but somehow the guilt and the pain kept him awake until dawn. Effie's tears haunted his few hours of rest.

When he enters the dining room, Effie is already there. She seems to be absorbed into writing something in her clipboard and doesn't acknowledge him. She doesn't even raise her eyes as he noisily sits opposite her and helps himself to breakfast. The food tastes like ashes in his mouth.

After what seems to be several weeks to him, he finally speaks : ''What's on schedule?'' Schedule. That's the only thing that can make her talk to him. She shoots him a quick glance before answering.

"It depends on you. Phoenix's death, or survival.'' Her voice is impassive and calm but everything about her, the way she keeps her eyes off of him, the way she lowers her head as she speaks, proves that she could almost kill him for what he did. She stands up abruptly, gathers her things and starts to walk away.

And he hates it. The way she avoids him. But, most of all, he hates the fact that she looks almost ashamed of herself, as if she has taken his cruel words to heart and believes that she is in the wrong. He wants her to raise her head and find back the self-confidence that suits her so well.

But he's unable to do anything at all but mumbling a few words under his breath, hoping she'll hear them.

Effie's clinging to the sink as she tries to calm herself. Deep, painful sobs scrape her throat and she's gasping for air. She cried so hard and for so long that, when it seems that there is no single one drop of water left in her body, she collapses on the bathroom floor, exhausted.

She's worked with Haymitch for several years now – she knows how much of a jerk he can be, but she had never thought he could be so cruel. Cruel. It wasn't even the good word to describe him ; his words had torn her heart into a million pieces. She can actually feel them drift through her ribs.

She doesn't know how but somehow she manages to stand up and to drag herself to bed. She buries her head in the pillows and clenchs her teeth as a new wave of fresh tears threaten to spill from her eyes. Damn, she's being so pathetic, crying over Haymitch when he isn't even worth the attention. But she can't help feeling as if her heart has been ripped open.

She'll never be able to face him again.

She doesn't sleep at all that night. By four in the morning she gives up trying and slowly prepares for the day. She puts on a simple blue dress and silver high-heel shoes. She doesn't feel very prompt today. She feels worse than she did the day before; as she leafs through her clipboard, seated at the table in the dining room, she remembers all the tributes she's reaped, all the tributes that she's sent in the arena – that she's sent to slaughter. She, Effie Trinket, has chosen a job – and loves a job - that consists in killing – in a way, she did kill them - innocent children who'll never have the chance to grow up and enjoy their life. On reflection, Haymitch is right about her: only a heartless and inhuman person can do such a thing.

She doesn't see him as he walks in and almost jumps when she eventually realizes he's here. Staring at her. Visibly wanting her to turn her attention on him, but she doesn't dare to meet his eyes. She doesn't want to see mockery or hatred in them. So she stays frozen while he eats, not daring to move either and, when he finally talks, she nervously digs her nails into the soft fabric of her dress.

''What's on schedule?'' She almost snikkers at his words. Almost.

She shoots him a quick yet severe glance. "It depends on you. Phoenix's death, or survival.'' And then Effie can no longer stand him; she needs to get away from his burning and scrutinizing gaze, get away from his oppressive presence.

She's not human after all. Why would he want to talk to her?

As she clears the room Effie can hear him mumble something under his breath, and barely makes out the words, "Keep your chin up, princess." And this time, surprisingly enough, her nickname doesn't sound ironic but soft and loving.

**Hi guys ! :) This story is coming to an end ( I guess there're 2 or 3 chapters left) so just let me know what you'd like to see happen. And let me know what you think about this chapter, especially about the fight.**

**A big thanks and lot of love to my beta SmurfsTasteGoodOnToast ( I love your username by the way )  
**

**Love to you all.**

**Sarah **


	6. Didn't Drink Enough To Say You Love Me

**Chapter 6:** Didn't Drink Enough To Say You Love Me.

Day 11.

"Seems like we have an interesting piece this year. Look at her: she's fierce.''

Haymitch lets out an angry growl. It doesn't seem to bother Jaylene though, the aqua-hair stylist sitting on the couch beside him, her eyes wide open with joy and excitement. She regularly claps her hands and lets out a little scream of joy when Phoenix appears on the screen before them.

''Look at her eyes,'' she exclaims as she lovingly watchs a close-up on the girl face. ''You can see in them how strong and derteminated she is.'' Jaylene turns her head towards Haymitch, waiting for his approval.

"Yeah, sure, you're right.'' he answers dully. Damn, he hates the woman. Her high-pitched voice has brought him an headache and she doesn't seem to be able to stop talking, even for a few seconds. Beside, she's as useful as a dead slug; come on, its been an hour since he's met her and she's spent the whole time making comments about how amazing and courageous Phoenix is. Even if the girl is taking a nap right now, hidden in a grove.

He can understand her, though. It's the first time in years that a tribute from District 12 makes it to the final four. Even he feels proud – and a bit hopeful too. But hope is very dangerous.

As Jaylene goes on with her drivel, Haymitch shoots a discret glance at the person sitting on his right. Her back upright, her legs crossed, Effie is looking straight at the TV, her lips pursed. She entered the room half an hour ago and has barely said a word since. Visibly, she's still mad at him.

They haven't talked much these last three days. She did a good job of avoiding him, only agreeing to be in his company when she had to inform him about his schedule. He didn't insist much, scared he would only make things worse.

"Look, even when she's asleep she looks like...a fierce warrior.'' Jaylene exclaims, and in her enthusiasm she gives Haymitch's knee a pat. He almost jumps.

"Don't..." he snarles angrily, making a slight pause when Jayene surprised eyes meet his. "...touch me."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." says Jaylene,''I'm just so excited and happy. It wasn't on purpose, I promise."

"Sure," Haymitch groans. "Let's watch the Games in silence, shall we?" As he slightly shakes his head in despair, he automatically shoots a glance at Effie. She's smilling. A small smile that disappears as quickly as it appeared, but one that he can clearly see. She's obviously making fun of Jaylene. As she meets his eyes he gives her a soft grin which she doesn't return; she abruptly looks away from him, her jaw tensing, but he can swear she's slightly blushing under her make-up. Which only makes his smile widen.

"Oh!" screams Jaylene, making both Effie and Haymitch jump. "She's waking up!" Indeed, Phoenix is tiredly rubbing her eyes, looking almost like a young child until her look hardens, her hands closing on the axe handle laying on her side as she remembers where she is. "There, our dazzling champion is going to wade in!" adds Jaylene with a smile.  
Haymitch takes a look at the girl; she has dark circles under her eyes, her hair are messy and dry and she's even thinner than she was when she walked into the train eleven days ago. To him, she definitely doesn't look like a dazzling champion but like a scared, starving, helpless little girl.

"She knows what she has to do," says Jaylene in an enthusiastic voice. "She knows she can win, she knows she's strong."

Well, yes, of course she's strong; she survived 'til the last four. But Haymitch is also terribly afraid that someone is stronger than her.

"I think her most dangerous ennemy is Jade." adds Jaylene, nodding as if approving what she's just said. She doesn't need to do it, though: Haymitch knows she's right. Female District One tribute, Jade, has proven how skilled she is with every kind of weapon and, in contrast to the usual tributes from her district, that she can survive in the wild. A lot of people here in the Capitol are convinced she'll be this years victor.

"Of course the fight will be hard," says Effie, speaking for the first time since she entered the room. She's still staring at the screen, not meeting anyone's eyes. "But I think Phoenix stands a chance."

"Don't be too sure about it," says Haymtich in a soft voice. "You might be disappointed in the end."

Effie's cold gaze meets his for one second, but she says nothing.

"But it's been so long since a tribute from our district went this far!"exclaims Jaylene.

"This isn't your district, Jaylene," hisses Haymitch. The stylist looks rather stunned at his harsh tone.

"Well, of course it is not, but as I'm the official stylist of District Twel..."

"Oh yes, pardon me, I'd forgotten how good you are. Lamps are really the most amazing things to illustrate our district industry."

Jaylene opens her mouth to reply but frowns insted. Shocked and upset, she doesn't seem to be able to find the words she's looking for. She slowly closes her mouth. On his right, Effie shoots him an angry look: he can almost hear her say "Manners, Haymitch, manners!" He has never really been fond of good manners, especially not when a Capitol stylist drives him nuts.

"I'm just kidding," he says regardless, not willing to make things worse with Effie, "I know coal-mines aren't really inspiring. Even for you." he adds, giving Jaylene a soft and polite smile. There, is that enough princess?

"No, I understand," says Jaylene, nodding. "I guess the Capitol fashion can look a little weird for you guys living in the districts. Oh, but look !" she exclaims, pointing a finger at the screen. "Phoenix's walking! What do you think she's going to do now?"

Haymitch shrugs. "Don't know. Maybe look for the others? That's what she's supposed to do." _That's what will make a good show._

"Oh gosh, I'm so excited!" squeels Jaylene, her hands flying to her mouth, her body tensed and leaning towards the TV as if she wants to go through the screen and land in the arena.

Haymitch can't help but roll his eyes. How clueless the woman can be. He glances at Effie and sees she's once again suppressing a smile. When she meets his eyes her lips tighten slightly, but she can't help her smile from spreading over her face, brightening her eyes. When he sticks out his tongue at her the last traces of hatred vanish from her eyes for a few seconds, making Haymitch feel better than he has in a long time.

Day 12.

Phoenix's sucess brings Effie instant fame within the Capitol. She's not a banal escort anymore, but Effie Trinket. Usually, when a tribute makes it to the final four, his or her mentor becomes automatically popular but, considering Haymtich's drunken condition, people in the Capitol seem to turn their attention toward Effie instead.

Of course, she can't convince the sponsors to send food or useful tools to Phoenix but, by talking to important people, by wandering around the Gamemakers, by giving satisfying answers while being interviewed, she manages to make a name for herself – and for Phoenix.

And she enjoys it. Being everybody's focus of attention brings her pleasure and self-confidence. The only dark thing in her shiny little world of excitement and hope has a name – and that name is Haymitch Abernathy.

She does a good job of ignoring him. His drunk and dirty figure disgusts her more than ever. Eventually, she discovers that it isn't so difficult to act as if he doesn't exist, as if he's just one insignificant man among plenty others. She only allows herself to talk to him when needed, that is to say when she has to inform him about his schedule (which he doesn't even care to follow anyway).

The day before, she found him leaning on the table in the dinning room, a bottle of liquor in his hand. He was drunk. Very drunk. She even wondered how and why he hadn't passed out yet. She tried to walk past him without being noticed, wondering where he'd found new bottles of alcohol – or who gave them to him, but unfortunately he heard her, raised his head and called for her.

Hopefully, he was too drunk to stand up and follow her, but he let out a pleading sob that made Effie's heart contract with pain as she closed the door.

When she meets him in a corridor the next day by morning, he looks sober enough. He's even cleaner than usual. Something in his eyes, the way he shyly glances at her, makes her feel pity towards him. For a moment, she almost blames herself for her behaviour towards him these last three days.

Besides, she needs to talk to him. About the usual stuff. Sponsors.

_Don't think about him,_ she orders herself. _Don't think about yourself, Effie. Only think about Phoenix._

She stops before him, her eyes serious, managing a small, polite smile which makes him frown suspiciously. "Good morning, Haymitch.'' she says in an impassive voice.

''Morning.'' he mumbles back. His breath smells of alcohol and something else Effie can't quite identify; something she really doesn't want to identify. She winces, tightly holding her clipboard against her chest.

''What are you doing, if I may ask ?'' she says in a cold voice.

Haymitch sniggers. ''Wow, princess, why are you all polite today?''

''I'm not your princess,'' Effie snaps back. She almost regrets her words and aggressive tone when hurt look flashes across Haymitch's face. Almost. ''So, what have you planned to do?'' She wanted her voice to be softer, almost kind, but her words only sound cold and harsh. She can see him frown and take a step away from her.

''You're still keeping an eye on me, aren't you Trinket?'' She feels her heart tighten at his use of her surname. ''Scared I'll drink myself to death?''

''I'm not.'' she replies, her anger rising. ''I was just wondering if you would try and talk to sponsors in order to...''

''That's where I'm going right now,'' he interrupts. ''Some of them are actually waiting for me, so if you please...'' He lowers his head as to nod goodbye before walking past her. Effie angrily grits her teeth, turning around to watch him move away as she wonders how in Panem can a man be so unpleasant.

Nevermind, she thinks. With her new fame and Phoenix likely to be crowned victor, she would be transfered to a better district next year and, hopefully, she'll never have to see Haymitch again.

She holds on to this idea throughout the whole day

By late evening she sits alone in the sitting room, her legs crossed, watching the Games on the screen before her. It's quite late actually, and most of the tributes are hidden and asleep, but she doesn't feel sleepy at all. She can't explain it, but she feels like she won't be able to close her eyes and relax tonight.

Phoenix seems to be in the same mood. She's sitting upright, her eyes wide open, as if waiting for something or someone. She hasn't moved an inch for about half an hour.

She's not the only who's awake in the arena, though. Jade keeps walking forward, silently, both hands clenched on her spear. She's about three or four miles away from the place where Phoenix sits. Cameras do regular close-ups on her face and, in spite of the darkness, Effie can see her piercing eyes and pursed lips. She has that determinated look Effie so often saw on tributes' faces – that look that says how much she's ready for the final, how much she's willing to kill. To smell blood. Effie keeps a worried look on her, afraid she'll come too close to Phoenix, afraid she might spot her. She's really happy the night is too dark for Jade to see properly.

One hour goes by. An hour and a half. Phoenix is still not asleep. Jade is still moving. Effie is considering turning off the TV and doing something less boring, when Phoenix's head raises. The girl slowly stands up, takes a few steps forward and bends down to pick up something on the ground. A small basket tied to a silver parachute.

Effie lets out a shriek of surprise. Her eyes widen as she shoots a glance towards Haymitch's bedroom door, in which he locked himself a few hours ago. So he did it again. Good mentoring. She can't help a small smile from spreading across her face. Even if she'll never admit it, she suddenly feels very proud of him.

On the screen, Phoenix is smilling, too. She raises her head once again and mouth a ''thank you'' at the sky. Then she sits down and opens the basket. It contains a full meal: a flask of water, a bowl of stew, some bread and a small basket of dried fruits. Even if Effie can't clearly see her face through the darkness, she can imagine the light and happiness in Phoenix's eyes.

It happens all so quickly. Phoenix is sucking a dried strawberry, her back leaning against a trunk, her axe laying on the ground a few inches away from her. The first thing she hears is a crackle, nothing much really, but she immediately jumps to her feet, still holding the fruit, weaponless. Her eyes dart around as she scans the darkness. Neither her nor Effie can see a thing.

And suddenly Phoenix raises her head as a look of sheer horror fills her eyes. She runs for her axe; too late. The dark figure perched on the tree falls on her, pinning her to the ground. The only things Effie can see are a silver glint and a curl of blond hair as a disgusting sound of tearing flesh echoes throughout the room. Effie doesn't even know when she stood up, just that she's standing, eyes wide with horror. And then all she can see is Jade's victorious smile.

The basket. The meal. Was it just a diversion? Was it send in order to divert Phoenix's attention?

Effie's scream freezes in her throat. She's unable to let out a single sound. Which, in a way, might be good. She doesn't want people to rush at her, asking her what's wrong. She's a Capitol escort. She isn't supposed to feel sad at her tributes death. She flinches at the cannon.

There's blood everywhere around Phoenix's corpse now, she can see it glittering in the darkness. She blinks back tears, her heart pounding into her chest. Right now, somewhere not too far away from her, people are raising a toast to Phoenix's death, celebrating the fact that their own tribute is now a step closer to victory.

Suddenly, she can't stand being alone anymore. Fear and pain make it hard for her to breathe.

Jaylene will be here in a minute or two, crying her eyes out, but Effie doesn't want to see her tears. Actually, there's only one person she wants to be with.

Haymitch.

Haymitch is dreaming. It's not one of his usual nightmares, but a blurred, weird and somehow satisfying dream. He's laying on a table, surrounded by a hundred pink cakes with a swirl of blue cream at the top of each one. As he stares at them he can't help thinking that they're vaguely familiar to him. Well, they look like Effie wearing one of her colorful wigs and pink dresses. But why is Effie a cake? And suddenly there she is, laying on the table beside him, her head resting on his shoulder. She's talking loudly and worriedly right into his ear, telling him how she has lost her schedule and can't find it, and how this will be the death of her, and that she blames him because he has never ever cared for her, and how...

_Toc, toc, toc_. Someone's knocking at his door. He wakes up with a groan, rubbing his eyes as he gets out of his bed. _Toc, toc, toc_. Past midnight. Who can it be? As he drags himself to his door, his mind gives him an answer: there's only one person who dare to bother him this late.

"Why would I open my door when you didn't open yours, princess?" he asks as a greeting. She doesn't reply; he can hear her ragged breathing behind the door.

"Are you okay?" he asks, worry growing on him. Effie never loses her calm.

"Haymitch..."

He opens the door as soon as he hears her voice. Pleading. Broken.

Her pale, devastated face tells him everything he wants to know. He meets her wide, scared eyes for a second before grabbing her arms and pulling her close. "It's okay, princess.'' he whispers into her ear, slowly stroking her back. He knows, that his words are wrong. That nothing about this is okay.

A cold, sickening feeling takes over him, making his vision blur. If it wasn't for Effie body's heat he would have turned to ice.

"I'm so, sorry," whispers Effie in a shaking voice. "I really thought she would make it."

"You don't have to apologise, princess, it's not your fault."

"I'm so stupid," she says in a desesperate voice that makes his heart tighten.

"No, you're not." Haymitch gives her a light kiss on the forehead. "We all believed in Phoenix. Hoped she was the best."

Phoenix's face. Her eyes. Her smile. Her strenght. He can remember them all too clearly. Now she's just one more dead tribute. Another one he couldn't save. He buries his head into Effie's neck.  
"I'm sad."

Haymitch raises his head at her words. Her big, blue eyes are glitering with tears, reflecting both pain and sadness. He gently smiles at her as he wipes a lonely tear rolling on her cheek with his thumb.

"That proves you're human, sweetheart." His first thought is that she's going to shout at him, even slap him; but soon enough her lips crack into a small grin that even reaches her eyes. She pulls him close once more, wrapping her arms around his neck, letting out a long, trembling sigh against his chest. He'll never admit it, but somehow her embrace comforts him in a way that only a few things do.

"I need a drink," he pulls away. He's not sure he can stand to be so close to her without doing anything stupid.

"N-no," she blurts.

"It helps, okay?"

"No. Not now. I can't lose you now," she shakes her head and doesn't meet his eyes.

"Lose me? I'm not going anywhere."

She takes a deep breath. Effie has no idea what dose of insanity made her do it, but at that moment her lips crash into his. "I can't lose you. Not now."

**Haha, cliffhanger ! *evil laugh* **

**I'm sorry it took me so long to publish this chapter, but I have so many exams to study for I might die of exhaustion. Next week I'll sit for what we call in France ''le Bac'', which, I think, is the same as A-level in Great Britain. Anyway, here is the damn chapter. XD**

**A huge thanks to my great beta SmurfsTasteGoodOnToast. The end of the chapter is all hers. **

**I don't know when the next one will be up, forgive me for being so slow to write. '-**

**Love, Sarah.**


	7. Will You Look For Me One Day ?

**Chapter 7:** Will You Look For Me One Day?

Haymitch slowly closes his eyes as he gets over the initial shock and surprise. He wraps his arms around Effie's waist, drawing her closer to him.

Somewhere, deep inside him, he knows the whole thing is wrong. He can't kiss her. He can't allow himself to fall in love with her. He just can't. But as he feels Effie's lips moving against his, as he tastes her, a sweet rose flavour, something even more powerful than happiness grows inside him, and he can't let her go.

He wonders how something so wrong can feel so right.

She's the one who pulls away first. Breathing heavily, Haymitch blinks several times, trying to calm his beating heart, trying to gather his thoughts. Effie's eyes dart around the room as if she's scared someone saw them, but they never meet his. He waits for her to speak first.

"I'm sorry." she whispers, lowering her head. He can almost see her blush under her make-up. Well, she's probably not that sorry, thinks Haymitch, or she would have run away, wouldn't she? He doesn't know what to answer. Well, he knows, actually, but his words would be too painful for her to hear, and for him to say.

As he doesn't reply, she shyly looks up at him. Fear is reflecting in her eyes. She's scared of his answer. Her behaviour eventually forces Haymitch make up his mind. "It's okay," he says. "I know you needed comfort after the girl's death."

His stomach drops as she winces, pain evident on her face. He holds out a hand to take hers, but she jerks away from him.

"Effie..."

"Don't." she shakes her head. Her voice isn't cold, or even angry. It's broken, which is ten times worse. "I understand. I-I understand if you don't have any feelings for me."

He can see from the look on her face that she didn't mean to say this. She bites her lip, looking away, missing the small grin that spreads across Haymitch's face as a warm wave of happiness surrounds him. Does that mean she loves me?

"Effie, hey Effie, of course I have feelings for you." he says gently, taking her hands in his. She doesn't fight him this time. "I do like you."

"You don't have to lie to me. I know how mean I've been with you sometimes. I..."

He silents her by putting a finger on her lips. She looks at him, surprised, but doesn't fight back. He locks eyes with her, trying to make her understand why he can't allow himself to love her.

Not because he doesn't have feelings for her. God knows how he feels about her. How she's the one who pushes him to keep on fighting when he doesn't want to do anything but give up. How she makes him smile about trivial things. How her kiss was one of the most amazing things that ever happened to him.

But because it would be too dangerous for her. The Capitol already killed every single person he loved: he doesn't want Effie to be in danger because of him.

Because being in a relationship with her would be too painful. They hardly see each other; what, one week a year? Two, maybe? He doesn't want to spend his time missing her even though he's not sure he won't anyway.

Because loving her would mean a fight for her, which would also mean becoming a better man. He doesn't want her to despise him. He would have to stop drinking, and he isn't brave enough to do it. He doesn't want to disappoint her. Maybe, in a better world, he could try and do it. But not now. Not here.

A single teardrop rolls on Effie's powdered cheek, and he can see in her eyes that she understands. Slowly she takes a deep, shaking breath and nods. He forces a smile, a sad smile, as he draws her to him once again, slowly stroking her hair, brushing his lips with hers once again. One last time.

She leans deeper on him, kissing him almost violently, digging her nails into his skin. When he pulls away, breathless, she brushes her lips with his ear and whispers three words to him. Three words he forces himself not to hear, knowing they'll only make their goodbyes even more difficult to him.

Day 13.

He buys her a bag of rose sweets when she agrees to come to the station with him. She laughs, first refuses it, but them sucks one or two sweets while they wait for his train. The train which will take him back to District 12.

He shoots her regular glances, loving the way she looks today. Her skin is paler than usual, less powdered; he can see the true colour of her eyes, and even her wig is of a soft gold that almost looks like a natural hair colour. He wonders if she's decided to look more human in order to please him.

"You look good today, princess." he says with a smile.

She looks at him and smiles back. "Why thank you."

She gives him the rest of her sweets as the train comes into the station, and he walks into it. He doesn't complain, really: the sweets's taste reminds him of hers. Every time he sucks one, he just has to close his eyes and he can feel her lips brushing his.

"See you next year, Miss Trinket." he says, leaning against the open window of his compartment.

She rolls her eyes. "What if I get promoted to a better district, huh?"

"You wont." he says almost playfully.

"We never know."

"Well, then I hope you'll find a better mentor than me." He smiles at her as a strident whistle announces the train's departure. "I have a feeling we'll have survivors next year. Don't give up on me, princess."

She mouths a "Never" to him and waves him goodbye as the train slowly starts to move forward. She watches until it totally disappears, readjusts her wig and walks away.

**This is last chapter guys, I hope you liked it. :) Yes, it's short, more like an epilogue than a chapter actually. I know it's sad and you are likely to hate me, but I didn't want to do an happy-ever-after + I wrote this chapter whilst listening to "Let Love Down" by Lady Gaga, which is a sad song. You really should listen to it on YouTube, it's amazing. **

**Anyway, I might (I said might) write a sequel once my exams are over. It would focus on Effie/Haymitch's romance during the 74th Hunger Games. But I can't promise you I'll write it. Just PM me to tell me what you'd like to see happen in it, and also if you have any idea for the plot.**

**A big thank you to my readers/reviewers for your support and love. This story would have been worse than it is if it wasn't for you. XD**

**Extra thanks to my amazing beta SmurfsTasteGoodOnToast. You helped me a lot and helped me to improve the story, so thanks again. **

**Bye everyone ! :)**

**Love, Sarah.**


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